The Truth Behind the Tweets
by Artemisdesari
Summary: The boys have found Twitter and they're using it. But what are the true stories behind some of those tweets? A series of one shots.
1. Mario Kart

_If you have seen the tweets from International Rescue (atoffficialIR) on twitter you will know the source of my inspiration for this collection. It will come slowly, in part due to having to do actual research, but also due to the fact that not only do I have a 21 month old daughter but I'm also pregnant with small human number 2 (no idea on flavour yet but watch this space). I'm also in the process of buying a house, so I'm writing in between packing up my belongings (of which there is far too much) and chasing a bored toddler around the living room while she waves the tv remote screaming. The only time she is vaguely content is kids tv time, or when she's pointing at Scott while I watch classic episodes and calling him Daddy. The joys of motherhood. The house also means that I can't replace my near dead laptop, it takes about 20 minutes to start. So, yes, doomed I think is the word I'm looking for here._

_Disclaimer: Although I contributed ideas for the tweets the vast majority of them are not mine, although I've been given permission to use them. The boys are most certainly not mine but that doesn't stop me from dreaming._

Mario Kart.

"_People think that we're mature and competent adults because we rescue people, but clearly they haven't seen Scott lose at Mario Kart."_

It was not unusual to find the four Earth bound Tracy boys gathered together in the games room, especially when a rare tropical storm blew over the island rendering them house bound unless there was a call out. All were active young men but there is only so much time that can be spent in the gym or on routine maintenance before one gets a little bored. This had led to Gordon suggesting a gaming tournament.

Really the older three brothers, Alan being safely hidden away on Thunderbird Five for his rotation, should have known better than to take Gordon up on any challenge. They had years of experience after all. Scott had opted for _Call of Duty_, Virgil for _Halo_ and John for _World of Warcraft _raids. None of the choices was a surprise (although it was rare that any of the brothers would admit to playing _Warcraft _of all things) but it had been Gordon who had the final say, it being his idea. Typically of Gordon he had chosen _Mario Kart_ (not a serious racing game so Alan was not overly enamoured of it). John and Virgil had agreed immediately, grins sharp on their faces and eyes alight with delight. Scott had put a little more effort into trying to talk them all into his choice.

He failed.

Which resulted in this scene: Gordon stretched out comfortably on the floor, a grin on his face and his entire posture more relaxed than it had a right to be. John was sat in an almost boneless position in a gaming chair with only his frown to show how hard he was concentrating and Virgil and Scott shared the sofa. The younger man's face was a mask of concentration and he was leaning forward as he stared intently at the screen. It was the older man who drew the most attention. Scott's controller was twisted almost the wrong way in his hands and he was leaning sharply to the left as though mimicking the movements that the driver of his little cart would be making. Streams of words that would make Grandma frown poured quietly from between his lips as his efforts to make the car turn that much harder failed and it shot off the edge of the road and into the abyss of space.

A muffled snort from the floor was the only indication that anyone had noticed this slip, although it was not the first, and as the lap continued Scott's control faltered all the more.

"It's like you're not even trying," Gordon commented as he lapped Scott for the first time. "I thought you were supposed to be one of the best pilots in the world."

"Shut up, Gordon," Scott replied from between gritted teeth as Virgil elbowed him in the ribs.

"Quit leaning into me," he hissed, his own moment of distraction causing him to nearly miss a corner himself. "You know that isn't going to help." Scott muttered at him again, his attention back on the screen and the little car that failed to cooperate.

John was the next to lap him, silent in his chair and only a small grin to show that he had noticed, and Gordon was well on his way to his third circuit. There was a small moment of triumph as Scott finally began his second lap, after dropping off three more corners in rapid succession, but it was squashed as Gordon passed him on his way to his final. Not even Virgil and John were going to catch him up now and clearly all those months in recovery after his accident had been spent playing more video games than the older boys had realised.

It was over before Scott made it to the start line a second time, too far behind the other three to catch them up, and he watched as his younger brother did a small victory dance.

"Next race?" The aquanaut asked. His other brothers nodded and for a moment Scott debated walking away, except that a Tracy does not quit in the face of abject failure.

"I need a different game pad," he groused, "this one's faulty."

"Here, I'll swap," Virgil said to save trying the find the fifth, rarely used, control pad and waiting for it to charge. Scott took it without a word and Virgil took a moment to remind himself that he now had a different character.

Even though they had moved on from Rainbow Road Gordon had chosen another track that was almost as challenging. John and Virgil made their way around this one with relative ease, first, second and third place achieved in rapid succession. After he had one false start watching the wrong cart and another where he had missed a turn Scott finally rolled over the finish in seventh place. The air turned blue.

"You can't blame the pad, Scott," Virgil pointed out reasonably, "and there's nothing wrong with this one either. I think you're just going to have to own up to the fact that you're rubbish at something."

"At least that something is _Mario Kart_," John also tried to console him. Gordon remained silent in the face of his brother's ire, for once not trusting himself to say anything that would not result in Scott tackling him and proving himself the superior wrestler.

"You three must have done something," Scott muttered. Virgil and John shared uneasy glances. Scott had always been a bad loser. "There's no way I could have lost _that_ badly at a stupid game."

"It happens," Virgil reasoned, wondering why they had agreed to this when they all knew that Scott was fairly useless at_Mario Kart _at the best of times. When his competitive streak got the better of him, however, it went from bad to ugly rapidly.

"Why don't we play something else," John offered, trying to change the subject and distract his increasingly irate brother.

"No," Scott shook his head. "Wouldn't want to take the risk that one of you might cheat again." He added as he dropped the control pad onto the sofa and stalked out. The remaining three glanced at each other.

"Another round?" Gordon asked and they all settled back into position, Scott's bad mood forgotten for the time being.

_I hasten to add that I've never been a rubbish loser at Mario Kart. I'm just rubbish at it in general so I have a laugh._

_Artemis_


	2. Flappy Bird

_Another one. I don't often write humour but this one is decidedly tongue in cheek with the direction and OC in this one. Meds and hormones are doing odd things to my brain and that is my only excuse._

Flappy Bird.

_"Virgil once got trapped under rubble with this girl and, long story short, he now has the highest Flappy Bird score."_

This was all Scott's fault, Virgil decided as the blonde woman next to him stumbled once again on her stupid high heels and crashed into his side. He grunted and righted her, careful not to let his hands touch any more of the bare flesh on display than he had to. At this rate he would be better off putting her in a fireman's lift and carrying her out, their progress might be faster, except that he was still checking the area. She had tagged along because she had decided that she could not make her way out on her own and she did not want to wait in her position of relative safety. A quick consultation with Scott had resulted in Virgil bringing her with him rather than getting her out of the building basement and then returning to look for more survivors. If he had known how much of a warren this place was Virgil would have ignored his older brother and taken Miss Jones back to the surface.

He hated San Francisco.

Over the last decade the earthquake activity in the area had increased drastically, not enough to discourage people from building in the area or living there, but enough that buildings once thought to be quake proof had been put under so much stress that even they were giving out. This office block had been one of them and Virgil found it hard to believe that some businesses would still operate out of windowless boxes below ground. He supposed that his father's ethics as an employer were more unusual than he had first thought.

"I wanted to be an actress," he heard her say as he felt something suspiciously like a tremor under his boots.

"That's nice," he muttered, opening the nearest door and feeling a surge of relief when he noted that the room was unoccupied but in possession of a very nice, sturdy looking, conference table. The trembling increased and he tuned out her words in favour of grabbing her arm and flinging her under the table, diving in behind her. Better safe than sorry after all. He was glad of it when a cloud of dust followed them and he heard the unmistakable rumble of moving bricks and steel. His companion, fortunately, remained silent.

He was still coughing when he heard Scott's voice demanding a status update and he spared a moment of thanks for the fact that Brains' equipment was made of strong stuff. He peered out from under the table, flashing his torch over the rubble that completely blocked their exit from their safe haven and most of the entrance to the room as well.

"We're alright," he assured Scott quietly after running the light over his companion. "A bit bruised but no injuries."

"_Can you get out_?" His brother asked. Virgil sighed well aware that the woman with him would not like the answer.

"No," he replied softly. "We're trapped under a table surrounded by rubble. I could probably dig my way out but there's no way for me to know how stable the wreckage is." He could hear Scott swear softly in the background, with John on Five and Alan out with appendicitis they were already a man down. He really hated San Francisco.

"_You'll have to hang tight,"_ Scott said finally. "_Gordon and I will come and dig you both out as soon as we can but that aftershock has caused us a few problems up here as well. Let me know if anything changes._"

"FAB," Virgil confirmed and looked over at his companion once more. "Looks like it's just you and me," he told her in as upbeat a voice as he could manage. This was not exactly the place that he wanted to spend his day.

"What if they don't come to get us?" She asked, voice small and shaking and blue eyes wide with fear and something that Virgil did not like to try and name.

"My buddies won't leave us here," he assured her gently. "They'll get us out, it just might take a while."

"But what if they can't?" She demanded. "What if there's another quake or the table doesn't hold up? I don't want to die here! I'm supposed to be an actress. I was going to be rich! I can't die here!"

"Miss Jones," he began, sensing the beginning of a panic. He put the torch on the floor and placed both of his hands on her shoulders, proud of himself for not following the deep plunging neckline of her top to take a glance at the attributes it contained.

"Mary Sue," she whispered, "call me Mary Sue." The panic was gone now, almost as soon as his skin had made contact with hers and Virgil had a horrible suspicion that she had managed to trick him.

"I don't think…" he began again.

"Good," she smiled and launched herself at him, sealing her lips over his and pushing him back on his elbows. One of her hands clutched the back of his head as her other one wandered southwards. It took longer than he would have liked to remove himself from her grasp and he placed as much distance between them as he could. "What's the matter?" She asked him.

"Under normal circumstances," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, "nothing at all." Actually had he been out with his friends Virgil would not have hesitated in making a pass at her. Blonde hair, blue eyes, slender and with breasts that he was absolutely certain were fake. Virgil knew he was handsome, he had been told so many times, and he was under no illusions as to his success with women in general under normal circumstances. This was not a normal situation, however. "It wouldn't be appropriate." He finished.

"What wouldn't be?" She challenged. "We might never be rescued, you're nice enough to look at even covered in dust and dirt, and I don't intend to die without getting some." A refreshing stance but not one that Virgil could really agree with. He did not intend to die because he was too busy to pay attention to what was happening around him. Besides, if his brothers caught him he would never live it down, not to mention the roasting he would get from his father when they got back to the island. No, the best plan here was to be firm and resist. Even if it had been a while and he really had liked the way she had taken control like that.

"My boss would kill me," he elaborated. "We're going to have to find some other way to entertain ourselves." He finished and regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. She pouted at him, full lips holding the remains of lip gloss which was now likely smeared across his face as much as hers.

He grabbed the torch and shone it around their shelter once more, desperate for something else to look at other than the way that her chest rose and fell as she breathed deeply. Torch light glinted off something shiny and he brushed dirt and small pieces of rubble away to expose the cracked screen of an iPhone. He snatched it up, more relieved than he should have been when the screen lit up to reveal an almost fully charged battery. Better yet, it had no password. Worse, it had no reception but at least that meant that his companion would not be using it to access social media in the time that they were trapped together.

"It's got _Flappy Bird_," he told her with some surprise. She huffed at him, arms now folded under her generous chest to draw more attention to her breasts.

"Fantastic," she hissed, raising a hand to examine her badly damaged manicure. "I can think of better things for us to do."

"We aren't getting out until my buddies get here to assess the safest route," he told her calmly, deliberately misunderstanding her meaning. From the roll of her large blue eyes she was aware of it. "Might as well kill time. Do you want to go first or shall I?"

"Knock yourself out," she settled against a leg opposite him.

An hour later she had finally accepted his offer of a turn at the game and Virgil took the opportunity to radio Scott.

"Any update on how long you're going to be?" He asked softly, looking at the delicate furrow between drawn on eyebrows.

"_Going to be a while yet, Virg,_" Scott told him. "_Problem_?"

"Only if you count a woman throwing herself at me as a problem," he replied.

"_You holding her off?_" Scott asked, amusement colouring his tone and Virgil wished he was close enough to smack the grin off his face. "_You know the boss won't be happy if you don't._"

"We're playing _Flappy Bird,_" Virgil told him. "It won't last forever, though, and it isn't exactly warm down here."

"_You'll be alright_."

"I might be, my uniform will keep off the chill, but Miss Jones is wearing a tank top and mini skirt." Whatever she had been in the building for, it clearly had not been an office job. He doubted it had even been a more generic acting role. In fact, unless he had missed his guess (which would be unlikely given his terminal bachelorhood and near imprisonment on the island) she had likely been auditioning for some form of porn. He would not be surprised if she popped up on his screen at home one day.

"_FAB,_" Scott was still far too amused. "_Enjoy the view, hands off and let me know if anything changes."_

"FAB," he sighed in return. "Looks like we're stuck together for a bit longer," he told her and she swore at him.

"You distracted me and I'd nearly beaten your high score," she pouted. "Here."

This continued for another three hours. At the end of their fourth hour together the light of the torch was beginning to fade but he could see that she was shivering in the flickering of its dying beams.

"Come here," he told her and saw interest flash through her eyes. "No funny business," he admonished her as he spread his legs and settled her between them with her back against his chest. "We need to keep you warm and shared heat is the best way." She huffed and wriggled her hips against him. He stilled her with his hands. "Stop that or I'll let you freeze," he threatened with a low hiss. She chuckled throatily and he was so very tempted to ignore Scott's reminder to keep his hands to himself.

"You won't," she told him and placed the phone back in his hands. "Your turn."

An hour later she had fallen into a fitful sleep against him and they were both feeling the cold. More alarming was that the floor beneath them was beginning to feel decidedly damp. Obviously water from a broken pipe somewhere had finally found its way to them. Virgil updated Scott quietly, careful not to disturb the sleeping woman who was far less trouble this way and returned to attempting to beat his high score.

In the middle of their sixth hour under the rubble he heard the unmistakable sound of concrete moving and Gordon's voice calling his name. Virgil was positive that he had never heard anything sweeter. He woke Mary Sue gently, encouraging her to move away from him so that they could both stretch out muscles and limbs that had lost sensation during their long confinement together.

"Have fun?" Gordon asked cheekily as he pulled Virgil out, letting out a low whistle when he saw the woman his brother had spent six hours trapped with.

"Highest score on _Flappy Bird_ ever," Virgil crowed, waving it under his brother's nose triumphantly.

"_Really?_" Gordon's voice was incredulous. "You spent six hours with _her_ and you played _Flappy Bird_?"

"It's not like there was anything else to do," Virgil replied.

"Not for lack of trying," he heard her grumble. Gordon chuckled.

"You're worse than Scott," the aquanaut informed him. "Seriously, we'll have to surgically remove those poles at some point."

Maybe it would have been better to stay trapped under the table.

_Artemis_


End file.
